


The Blimps of Beacon High

by CharlRhodes



Series: Teen Wolf weight gain stories - prompts - ideas [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Sports, Chubby Danny, Chubby Isaac Lahey, Chubby Jackson Whittemore, Chubby Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Hypnotism, M/M, Magic, Training Camp, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlRhodes/pseuds/CharlRhodes
Summary: When an anonymous donator offers The Wolves of Beacon High, the Beacon Hill lacrosse team, the opportunity to go on training camp Gros Boost - Preparation Center for Athletes, colossal improvements are in order.Colossal indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

"Welcome to Gros Boost - Preparation Center for Athletes." A young man greeted the Wolves of Beacon High as they came out of the bus. "I am Anthony, and I will take care of you during your stay." He added, smiling at the teenagers.

"Coach Finstock, I suppose?" He held out his hand to welcome the Coach. "Your belongings will be took cared of." He gestured the team to follow him to a large room where the medical staff was waiting for them for a check-up.

By turns, the players stepped on the scale, and the nurses took their measurements to fill their charts.

Among them were Isaac Lahey, 6'2 for 170lbs, Danny Mahealani, 6' for 170lbs, Scott McCall, 5'10 for 160lbs and the captain of the team, Jackson Whittemore, 5'8 for 155lbs.

"Great! We are all set. I cannot wait to see your improvements!" Anthony giggled enthusiastically as the medical staff was leaving. "Take a seat, and we will start the briefing shortly. However, first, I propose you to have a small collation. The trip must have famished you."

THREE WEEKS LATER

"Thanks for getting me to the camp," Stiles stated as Derek was driving.

"It is not like I was going to let you go in your rolling death-trap." The dark-haired teenager smirked.

"Hey! Do not insult my baby!" Stiles snapped, playfully hitting his boyfriend, even if he had to acknowledge the Camaro was much more convenient than his older Jeep.

"So, why didn't you go with the others ?"

Stiles was supposed to go on Lacrosse camp at the start of August with the whole crew. He had been thrilled to improve his game for the coming season.

"Dad had threatened the Coach to let him have some time with me. The Sherriff rarely takes holidays, so they negotiated that I will only make a week of camp." Since his mother passing, the Sherriff had never taken three whole weeks of holidays. The Sherriff's busy schedule usually prevented them from leaving too long.

"Maybe you will do something else than warming the bench."

"Not cool!" Stiles pouted.

After another hour of driving, Derek parked in front of a wooden-lodge style hotel.

"Here we are," Derek stated, looking at the sign on the frontage: Gros Boost - Preparation Center for Athletes.

"Wow, that looks great," Stiles said, looking around only to understand the camp was secluded in the middle of the woods.

"They are spending a lot on the team."

"As if the basketball team could feel sorry. Plus, Coach told us an anonymous donator offered it." Stiles snorted, taking his belonging before entering the building.

A smiling petite blonde lady welcomed them at the entrance.

"Welcome to Gros Bost." She greeted with a simpering high-pitched voice. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I am Stiles Stilinski," Stiles answered, smiling at the lady. "I am looking for the Beacon High Lacrosse Team, please."

"You are Stiles Stilinski? Wonderful!" She grinned, even more, causing Stiles a bit ill-at-ease. "They were waiting for you. Oh!" She bellowed. "There is the counsellor in charge of your group." She designated the young buff guy approaching. "Anthony! This is Stiles Stilinski, from Beacon High Lacrosse team."

This guy, Anthony, appeared to be on his 25's. He was notably attractive. He was towering them, even taller than Isaac, with well-developed shoulders, a muscular torso with a narrow waistline fitted in a blue polo, wavy copper-coloured styled hair.

He was smiling at them when he shook their hands before introducing himself as the referent of the Lacrosse team for their stay.

"So what is planned for today?" Stiles asked the man as his luggage was taken to his room.

"The guys are having a post-workout snack, you can join them," He responded smiling like a car-seller, before raising, almost condescendingly, an eyebrow to Derek. "And you are?"

"Derek Hale." He grunted, brooding because Stiles was more engaged in the man than him at the moment.

"He is the captain of the basketball team and my ride," Stiles added, noticing his boyfriend's mood also silently asking him to behave.

"You can join them too," Anthony replied joyfully. This way, please." He continued, indicating them to follow him to the cafeteria.

They marched into the cafeteria to see long tables lined where Stile's teammate sat down.

It was not the obscene amount of food on the tables that shocked Derek and Stiles, but the lacrosse team which did.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stilinski! Took you long enough!" The massive Coach shouted.

His teammates, who had greek gods bodies thanks to long hours of training, were at least twice the size they used to be. Gone were the abs and defined muscles replaced with round taunted guts exploding out of their clothes.

However, none of them seemed alarmed by their new shape as they were still greedily chowing away food and stuffing themselves.

"Come sit down." The oversized man ordered, pulling them out of their reverie. The Coach was a blob of human with fat spilling everywhere out of his tracksuit vest, his neck almost chocked by his whistle.

"Yes, do sit down, boys. There is plenty of food enough for all of you. For now." Anthony announced sweetly as he was directing the boys to the benches were the hefty players were plopped down.

"Hum... What the hell is going on, Der? "Stiles whispered. "They are huge and do not seem to notice a single thing."

"I do not know."

Stiles sat next to an utterly obese adolescent. It demanded him a moment to realise that the rotund person was no other than Scott McCall, his best friend.

Fat draped his heretofore fit friend everywhere. Chubby fingers were seizing food, connected to thick-jiggly arms as big as Stiles' waist, and shoving it in his mouth. His former firm pecs, buried under piles of lards, were now two round and shaggy moobs drooping all the way down to a blubbery belly, engorged with food. Due to their large size, his thighs were forcing his legs apart. While his posterior, so fattened, was springing out of his shorts to spread on the bench.

"Hey... hum... Scott." Stiles spoke as his best friend was shoving a solid piece of pizza in his mouth. "Scott." He tried again. "Scott!"

Too engrossed by the food in front of him, Scott heard his friend calling him, but the words did not seem to make him snap out. All that mattered was eating the food in front of him. He had to have more as he kept thrusting food inside his distended midsection.

Stiles remarked that Derek had the same difficulties with Isaac. The gaunt man had exceedingly pudged out as his stomach was ramming into the table, the upper part of the globular gut spilling over it while he was nibbling on chicken wings. He had made a mess of himself he was covered with grease and sauce as his curly hair was coated with them.

The food entranced all the guys in the room. Stiles was pretty sure they would explode if they did not stop. He spotted Jackson Whittemore and Greenburg, almost stuck one to another as they were enormously large. If the situation were not so disturbing, Stiles would have laughed at Jackson porcine appearance. His face had received its just share of the numerous pounds he had piled since his arrival, and he was now sporting round cheeks and jowls and a wiggly double chin.

Danny was not thinner than his companion. The goalie comically suited the obese Hawaiian look cliché as his brown rotundly round resting wholly on the table hairy belly was obstructing him from stooping to reach more ribs.

  
  
Then he noticed Anthony leaning to murmur in Scott's ear. It got his attention and lifted his feeding furore. Then, in an unsettling Annabelle-like movie, he swirled his head to Stiles, before snapping a blithe grin to his friend. As he got up, the doughty boy lost his balance when his vast new midsection snagged on the table, making the bench squeak as his substantial derriere bumped it.

"Let us get you up, Scotty," Anthony pleasantly commanded to the outsized male.

As he thoughtfully stood up, this time, Scott engulfed skinny-defenceless Stiles into a tremendous bearhug. His fattened arms clutched Stiles a little more as Scott sloppy kissed him on the cheek putting, in passing, crumbles of food on his face.

"I am so happy you could make it, bro," Scott exclaimed, resembling an oversized excited puppy. "We are doing great progress here."

Stiles wanted to question Scott, but Anthony prevented them, slapping his hand on Scott's spread love handles. "You big chaps do not know your own strength." He chortled. "Go back to practice, Scott. If you finish early, you will get an additional exceptional collation."

At those words, Scott's eyes lustfully lit up as he thudded down on the bench to clutch an umpteenth piece of pizza. His paunchy middle was smacking against the table and spilling across it, as he started to reach for more, the growing mass in front of him restricting his range.

"Just a pizza away from 330 pounds. Unbelievable progress, don't you think?" He maliciously asked Stiles. "We will not have enough time to prepare you, Stiles, so we are going to use a different approach. Sorry for the inconvenience." He fakely excused.

Before he could react, the smell of chloroform hit his nostrils. 


	3. Chapter 3

He did not recall what happened while he was out. He only had snatches of memories of that moment.

  
  
He had recognised Anthony telling him he could not be "trained" the conventional way.

  
  
That he had to speed up the process.

  
  
"The end justifies the mean".

  
  
He also remembered a sting in his arm before feeling his muscle sharpness rapidly diminishing.

  
  
He recollected his shirt commencing to ride up, hearing the seams of his clothes creaking, buttons popping and his belly jutting out further and further over his pants.

  
  
He recalled how his love handles widened while his thighs achingly saturated his jeans.

  
  
He felt like he was expanding out in every direction, and he relished it.

  
  
He did not grasp how long it took. Now, he was just alongside Scott, who was wolfing down burgers, while Stiles was shoving entire fists full of loaded curly fries into his mouth as he could feel the tension in his rounding out gut at each chew. It was not hunger that kept pushing him to gorge himself beyond ache. It was the sweet words of encouragement Anthony susurrate in his hears, that increased his greediness, that encouraged him to get to point his breath was laboured, his stomach so swollen it was not jiggling. Each time he showed the lithe man how a good trainee he was, pushing himself even more.

  
  
Anthony had been so proud of him. "What is a scintilla of cheating when the results are so sumptuous?" He had told him, stroking his way too full stomach. "You know the adage; God helps those who help themselves. You impressively helped yourself, Stiles. A few drops of a blend of my own and here you are, a true overfed 360 pounds butterball."

  
  
Stiles loved that.

  
  
Everything about him was now fat, rotund, heavy, gluttonous and porky. His belly was soft, buttery, doughty, and not jiggling at the moment as he had remarkably engorged it. Also, behind it, though he could nevermore see them, were his wide thighs he could hardly see because of his middle and his double-chin.

  
  
He was unstoppable.  
So were his porked up teammates and Scott, his 420 pounds Rubenesque colleague.

  
  
With difficulty, his big swollen arms were tired and heavy from feeding himself, he raised his globular bubble-butt (he was proud he developed one) off the bench, disregarding the loud creaking, and made his way to the parking where the bus was waiting for the crew.

  
  
That week with the team had been exceptional! They made colossal progress, and Stiles felt like he had considerably improved.

  
  
They all did.

  
  
They would have a high season, he was sure they would go to the playoff at the end of the year, and maybe, he could have a scholarship thanks to that.

  
  
"Stiles," Anthony called before Stiles could enter the bus. "About Derek," Right, Stiles remembered now that his boyfriend had driven him here. However, not that he could have, with his busy schedule, he had not seen the basketball star-player for the whole week.

  
  
"He is going to stay with us for a few days," he explained as he was wiping of syrup from Scott's chubbed out face. "You know how much he wants to improve his basketball performances."

  
  
Stiles nodded his head, feeling his double chin wobbling independently. He could not wait to discover Derek's improvements. He hummed at the thought of Derek in his very revealing basketball jersey and shorts and how good he looked in them.

  
  
"Stilinski, move it! Your fat ass block the entry!" The blimped out team captain yelled as Jackson's almost 400 pounds doughty body pushed Stiles' one. He succeeded to enter the bus as it swayed under his weight.

  
  
He could not wait to see Derek again, but, damn, his morning training had left him famished as he felt his sides brushing to the bus door.

  
  
'At least the bus tilted further than when Jackson climbed in it.'


	4. Chapter 4

As he was waving goodbye, Anthony's phone started to ring, indicating his client's number.

"Hello, Mister Raeken," Anthony answered.

"I have just read your status report. My sincerest congratulations, that was a job swiftly carried out."

"They swelled out without a hitch as our unexpected guest is currently taken care of."

"I do not care about him. That was the last lacrosse team on the list. No one is standing between me and victory now."

"Indeed, Mister Raeken."

"The Wolves of Beacon High were the biggest threat to my titles."

"As you have seen, none of them is under 300 pounds now. Some of them even just rose above 400."

"That is fantastic! They will be too fat to run...or even to move on the field. The Blimps of Beacon High, haha!"

"Anyways, thank you for choosing Gros Boost for this mission, and we are looking forward to dealing with you again in the near future. Have a nice day."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello, Derek. How are you doing today?" Anthony greeted as the 400 pounds-dark-haired teen appeared in the private dining room he had arranged for the athlete.

Derek did not bother to acknowledge the other man, employed in greedily consuming a doughnut from an already half-eaten box, that would be gone in a literal second as he stuffed another one in his jiggling maw. His blubbery jowls shook avidly, his cheeks filling out as he eagerly chewed and swallowed the pastry.

"Please, do sit down." the slim man intimated, gesturing the soling wooden chair, that groaned under his enormous buttock damaging, even more, the furniture, and the garnished table in front of them.

Derek complied as he inhaled the warm smell of bacon and the thick meaty scent of pork ribs, before overfilling his plate. Anthony grinned as enormous bite after enormous bite disappeared into Derek's throat.

His shirt was riding up, covered with stains, and the man could see the fattened flesh poking out - the completion of Anthony's generous treatment. The product of an intensive week of greedy overindulgence, feasting and month's worth dinners he now consumed in one sitting.

In his brainless, dopey disposition, he forced down each iota of food covering the plate, before releasing a deep guttural belch that converted the substantial pounds of hearty food he just devoured into more gut, more thighs, more massive fleshy fat pecs. He was expanding and rounding out right before Anthony's eyes. Not his usual method of training, as he had always preferred when his trainee took their time, but Derek had been a last-minute guest with a limited amount of time in his care.

"You are doing wonderfully, Derek." The man felicitated, petting the star player's large swelling stomach. "I am sure Stiles and the basketball team will recognise your efforts when they will see you next week." He said, leaving Derek gobbling his way through his meal.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mister Dunbar, how can I help you?" Anthony asked the teenager in front of him.

"I am here to boost my Lacrosse career." Liam Dunbar answered.

"Did you, now?"

"I have to become captain of the team, but I need to rule out the current one." He explained.

"I think I can help with that," he hummed. "I will draw up a quote with different available services. Do you have any idea on how much you want him to grow?"

"Immobility?" He said, hesitating, thinking that it could have been too much. "Is that even possible?"

"It is, of course, Mister Dunbar. May I have the name of the said captain?"

"It is Theo Raeken, from Hamilton Prep."

A small smile appeared on his lips as he wrote the name of his previous client. Ain't karma a bitch?

He had sized Mister Raeken up the moment they had met to discuss the Beacon High lacrosse team. 5'8. 150 pounds. If Mister Dunbar really wanted to make his captain immobile, it would bring him somewhere 450-475 pounds. Doable for Anthony.

"Well, I will come back to you shortly."


End file.
